Tadaima
by L. Deschain
Summary: Visions. Memories. Laughter and screams. The life after death. This was the beginning for me.
1. Prologue

**_A/N: Hello all you peeps, this is the next work of yours truly. Had some crazy epiphany, and decided to write this. Don't know if I'm going to finish it though. Actually, I wanted to hear from what you folks have to say about it so please, after you're done reading it leave a comment plus if you think I should continue it. _**

**_Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach, and I salute Tite Kubo for his creative genius in this twisting maze that we call our work life. My hat is off to you, Mr. Kubo._**

**-**

**Prologue: Memories Forgotten, Dreams Remembered**

-

Someone's crying.

I don't know why, but I think I'm glad it's not Rukia. But then again, I didn't expect her to be the type who cries at funerals. Some might find that odd, that she's not crying, that she's not tormented by so much grief she's bawling like an idiot over her only sister's death. Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of people doing that here, even if it seems to be a little _too_ mandatory.

But not her. No, she's just sitting there, her snow-white kimono perfectly arranged, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her raven black hair lying like silk over her shoulders. God, she's as beautiful as her sister.

I know she must think I hate her, that I despise her for even being in my presence. I know that's what the others think. I know exactly what they're thinking, those damn old fools. How dare a mere peasant be allowed to even breath the same air as him? Has she no shame? The fact that she even bares the name of Kuchiki is of the highest disgrace. And so on and so forth. The list is endless.

Pathetic.

But I'll let them go on thinking their high and mighty thoughts. It's enough if only I know the truth. Besides, if those old fools knew what I really thought half the time they'd probably all be dead from massive heart attacks or strokes. Now wouldn't that be a loss.

The truth is that I don't mind her being around me. That when I look at her I don't feel an overwhelming sense of shame and dishonor. In fact, it's quite the opposite. When I look at her as she is now, strong and unmoving, determined not to show how saddened she really is, I am filled with nothing short of the greatest respect. Even though I have only just recently met her, I am proud to call her my sister. I am proud that she bears my family name, though I hope she will never become as tightly bound to it as I am. I will do all I can to fulfill Hisana's wish and protect her sister. I alone will be the one to bear the burden of preserving the honor of the Kuchiki family.

I am so sick of having to dance around like a puppet on strings for the sake of their "glorious" honor.

No, I will save her from that fate. And if it is at the cost of a loving relationship, if it makes her despise me with all her heart, then so be it. The more she hates me, the better. People like me will only serve to slow her down.

Isn't that funny? I'm sorry, but I can't help but laugh. It's so damn pathetic. Everyone thinks I'm some great, majestic aristocrat. That I am the proud and powerful champion of all the Thirteen Court Guards, no, the _entire_ soul society itself. Look everyone!! Here comes Byakuya Kuchiki! No way! The famous Grace of Death, captain of Sixth Company?!?! Quickly, everybody bow! Show some respect!

God I hate that.

They don't see the real me, the wretched and decrepit coward that lives just below the surface. They don't see the hollow shell of a man that wakes up at night covered in sweat from nightmares that still haunt him. They don't hear the screams of a dead past that echo through his mind when the moon is down, the hour is none, and the things of fear come out to play.

But Hisana did.

Hisana was the only person I ever let see the real me. She was the only person that I let myself be vulnerable to. She was the one that I knew I could trust, the only woman I had wanted so desperately to give all the love I had left in my heart to.

And she had loved me for it.

We were so happy together, regardless of what the others might have thought. She was everything I wished I could have been. She was strong, independent, kind, and sincere. Qualities I seemed to have lacked, qualities she taught to me.

And slowly, the ice that had encased my heart for so long began to ebb away.

With Hisana next to me, I could sleep peacefully at night and wake up ready to face the challenges of a new day with a smile on my face. Smiling was another thing I never did until she walked into my life. I remember the first time that she coaxed me into it. I still smile every time I think about it.

It had been a especially rough day for me. The new recruits were practically worthless in terms of strength and intelligence, though a select few did seem to have some talent. Particularly one boy by the name of Renji Abarai. I had made a mental note to have him reviewed more thoroughly. I remember being neck deep in paperwork, my mind already stressed to the point that I wouldn't have been the least bit surprised if smoke had started to billow out of my ears. Soul Society regulations could be so tedious sometimes. And with the number of Huge Hollows still increasing at a startling rate, it didn't look as if the workload was going to get lighter anytime soon.

I remember the whiff of lavender, the rustle of cloth, and the feeling of cool hands lightly resting on my shoulders. I had sighed, telling her that I had work to do, but she would hear nothing of the sort. She'd said that I was overworking myself, that I needed to rest. And then she had begun to administer the greatest form of punishment that could ever be inflicted upon a procrastinating over-worker such as myself.

She began to give me a massage.

It was just a simple pattern of her thumbs rotating in small circles, but it felt like heaven to me. You could practically hear the stress of the day slump off of me as I leaned back into her arms. That had felt wonderful. It's amazing, how much love can be shown in such a small way.

I remember taking her hands in my mine, turning around in my chair so I could look at her. The sun was setting and she was standing in front of the window just right so that the dying light of the day cascaded around her, wreathing her in a golden light. And then, while I was staring at her in wonder, she'd blushed a little, then smiled the most beautiful smile I have ever seem in my entire life.

I would have moved the universe for that smile.

But that smile had been taken from me, and I was once again left to wonder in the cold darkness of my soul. The woman that had lit the way for me, and guided me along the path, was gone.

My vision is blurry as I come back to the present. Dark blotches seemed to have somehow formed on my robe. I blink a few times, then reach my hand up to my cheek. It comes back wet with tears. The stares the old men send my way practically bore into my head, but I don't care.

At least now I know who's crying.

As everyone stands and Hisana's body is prepared to be taken to her final resting place, I find my mind wandering. Memories, so many things are concealed within them. Memories of fights, battles, and death. Memories of love after sunset and everything in between. Memories of dreams.

Memories of nightmares.

Nightmares of fire, of a boy screaming for a mother who will never answer him again. Dreams soaked in blood. Sleepless nights ruled by beasts of the past.

Beasts that she helped to slay, and wounds that she helped to heal.

Later on, as I lay in our, no, _my_ bed, I find myself absently staring at the ceiling. When one is alone, one tends to think of many things. Too tired to move, yet too afraid of what might come to haunt me in the night to sleep, I am caught between the worlds of the past and present.

I close my eyes, breath in her scent that will linger here forever, but will only truly exist in my most closely guarded memories, and dream of the past.

-

**_A/N: So like I said. If you like what you read and want more then tell. I think that I'm going to continue it anyway, but it's always good to have some feedback._**

**_Click the button!! You know you want to._**


	2. It Started With Death

**_A/N: Second Chapter is up!! I personally happen to like where this one is going. R&R please. And much thaks to karenkate-kitty for the review. I've never had my writing called beautiful before _**

**_Disclaimer: Don't own the Bleach. I do have some Clorox though... Hmmmm. I smell a law suit!_**

-

**Stage 2: It Started With Death**

**-**

It was the sound of rain that he remembered more than anything, though there had been so much more than rain that night.

He remembered a woman too, a beautiful woman with no face and sky blue robes that shone in the candle light. There was a large house, with other smaller houses that extended from the first. There were other people who tended to those smaller houses. They also had no faces, and called him by a name that was his but not his. There were people with swords and armor that sparkled in the moonlight who stood outside of the woman's and his bedroom all day and all night.

Then there were the other people, the people that seemed to be there, yet not there. These people were odd, always wandering the house, walking through walls as if they were smoke. The people with no faces had a name for those people, but he just couldn't seem to remember it. The ones that walked through walls and looked all sad were the kind of people that would make the ones with no faces act funny every time he talked about them.

Then therewas _those_ people, the scary ones. The ones that didn't look like people at all, but were still people on the inside. They were the ones that made all the people that walked through walls disappear.

The kind of people that would sometimes come into his and the woman's room and whisper secret words in his ear while he dreamed.

They were the people that wore white masks over their faces to hide their shame as they devoured the flesh of others.

He remembered the woman without a face kissing him goodnight, and he had wrapped himself in a bed of warm silk. Slowly the boy who had a name that he couldn't remember had fallen back onto the soft cushion of dreams, and journeyed to the land of shadows.

He woke up later to the sound of rain and thunder. The woman with no face was worried, because the man with no face hadn't come home yet. When the boy without a name asked her what was wrong in a voice that was his but not his, she merely told him that the man would be back soon and he should go back to sleep. But there was something wrong, because the woman with no face was crying.

And then there was that _chill. _The sense that something was happening but not happening. The shadows cast by the lanterns seemed to dance and laugh, as if they knew a secret that no one else knew, and found it to be insanely funny.

Then the wall had exploded.

Invading men with swords and armor that glittered in the moonlight came through the door and wall and fought against the men that guarded the house. The smell of smoke hung heavy in the air. Everything was a chaotic mixture of noise and confusion. One of the men that guarded the palace helped the woman without a face and the boy without a name up off of the floor where they had fallen after the explosion. The man ushered them out through a small concealed door in the wall of the room, which led down a small tunnel that opened up to the big courtyard of the palace.

It was pouring outside, rain was falling down in cold sheets that drenched the boy and woman to the bone. Thunder rumbled and shook the air as luminescent ribbons of lightning flared in the sky, adding to scene of chaos. A huge hole had been blown into the wall that surrounded the grounds. Most of the palace had been consumed by fire, with what little left of it still alight. Men in armor and the people without faces were running about in a wild frenzy. Some were being cut down as the invading men in armor spilled forward like ants from the hole that had been blasted into the outer wall.

A group of the men that guarded the palace formed a protective circle around the boy and the woman, their swords flashing in the night as the invading men in armor flooded the courtyard. The woman with no face was crying, pressing the boy with no name against herself. She was trying to tell him something but he couldn't hear what she was saying. In fact, he couldn't hear anything anymore, because that strange feeling was back. It hung in the air and chilled him more to the bone than the frigid rain ever could. It was the feeling that something was coming. No, the feeling that something was already _here_, right now, just waiting for the right opportunity.

It was the same feeling that came over him whenever he saw one of those people in the shadows or happened to catch glimpses of them in the reflections of mirrors.

And he knew without knowing, that one was there right now, waiting for the right moment to strike.

As if on cue, a shadow in the night that didn't seem quite like a shadow at all rose off of the ground in a sickening fluid motion. The shadow grew and grew, till it was taller than the buildings of the palace itself. Fear gripped the boy's heart as the shadow bulged and contorted in on itself in wild throes, and then seemed to solidify. White goo secreted from the deformed shadow and wrapped it in a cocoon that formed what could barely pass for arms and legs, except that there were far too many of them. Rather than end in fingers the limbs ended in long curving black claws that twitched with an almost _eagerness_, like they couldn't wait to sink themselves into soft flesh. The boy's fear became a reality as some of the white slime bubbled and solidified, to form a horrid mask straight out of a frightened child's nightmares.

The huge, newly formed monstrosity thrust it's head upward; as if smelling the air. Then, with slow deliberateness, it turned toward the circle of guards in the courtyard, and stared straight at the boy with no name.

The next thing he knew, he was lying on the ground next to the woman with no face. Her head was cut and she was bleeding slightly, but she didn't seem dead. The bodies of the men in armor, guards and invaders alike, were strewn across the courtyard. He tried to get up to see if the woman was alright, only to fall back down. For some reason his legs weren't moving right, and he found it hard to breath, as if there was a hand tightening around his throat. He stood up again on shaky legs and stumbled towards the woman, but was stopped by something that made his eyes widen in fear and a chill run down his spine.

Set into his chest was a silver chain. The chain went on for a few yards, then connected to another him, one that was lying in a pool of dark red.

And that was when the boy with no name realized that he was dead.

_Are you dead?_

The gigantic monster was close now, it's long snake-like head bent down over the body of one of the guards. That horrible masked face opened it's mouth and a miasma like rotting carrion permeated from it's open jaws as it began to feed. The boy could only stand frozen in place as the guards' body was ripped to pieces and devoured.

_I've been waiting for you._

Then that white mask born from nightmares turned and cast it's eyeless stare on the woman with no face.

_I've been waiting for so long._

The boy without a name saw what the monster was about to do, and ran to get between it and the woman with no face. He didn't notice that his limbs no longer felt like they were stuffed with lead and his breathing wasn't restricted as he ran over to the woman. All he could think about was protecting what was precious to him.

_I'm right here..._

The white monstrosity drew back one of it's many arms, sharp black claws lit up by the lightning.The boy squeezed his eyes shut as the claws swung down.

And cut through the chain that extended from his chest.

-

There was a sound like bones snapping, then the boy opened his eyes and gasped at what he saw.

The palace, the courtyard, everything was gone. Even the rainy sky had been replaced by a gorgeous cascade of colors that formed a sunset. He was standing in a clearing surrounded by what must have been thousands of sakura trees, there long branches swaying in the light breeze. Pale pink petals floated through the air and filled the place with a soft, pleasant aroma.

There was the sound of silk rustling against skin, usually barely discernible in the real world, but everything seemed to be _enhanced _in this place. The boy without a name turned around, and came face to face with the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Her skin was as white as snow in the winter. She was wrapped in multiple thin, pale pink ribbons of silk that left little to the imagination. Her hair was strange, each strand seemed to be made of thousands of small sakura petals that were like links in a chain. Her eyes were of the same pale color, and seemed to shine with an inner light. The boy suddenly flushed and bowed his head in embarrassment.

The woman laughed in a soft, musical voice that made the boy's mouth hang open in astonishment. He had never heard such a wonderful sound. It was like having the feeling of joy or happiness manifest into a physical shape. He could sit for days just listening to that sound and never tire of it.

The woman seemed amused by his reaction and took the opportunity to step closer to him. He seemed taken aback by her approach, and even backed up a little as her hand brushed against his. The woman smiled at him and lifted her hand up to touch his face, making him flinch. Her skin was soft, like flowers brushing up against his skin.

_I'm so glad you're here._

The boy jumped in surprise as he heard the voice. It was so soft and fragile sounding, like a delicate whisper. It seemed to come not just from the woman, but everywhere else as well. The woman was smiling at him, and tears glistened in her eyes. She slowly wrapped her arms around him and held him close to her.

_I've been waiting for you to come here. I'm happy that you can hear me now. _

The world seemed to stir, the wind picked up and the sakura trees swayed. Then suddenly, everything stopped, as if the world was holding it's breath.

_Now you can finally tell me my name._

_-_

The monster flinched and quickly drew back it's hands as pure white light exploded around it's prey. When the light had faded the monster uncovered it's face and let out a surprised hiss at what it saw.

Where an easily defeated mortal child had been, there now stood a lethal threat. The broken chain that had been set into the boy's chest was gone, and he had been dressed in robes as black as the night. In his hand was a sword, it naked blade drawn from the sheath that hung from his waist. A huge, overwhelming spiritual pressure was spilling from his body.

_Call me._

The sword flashed with an inner light as the boy lifted it, the hilt coming to rest in front of him and the blade pointing upward to the sky. The spiritual intensity in the air doubled in magnitude, causing the giant monster to buckle.

_Call me now!_

The boy opened his eyes and for the first time the white monster felt a tremor of fear run through it's grotesque body. The child's eyes were cold and hard. The eyes of a killer.

_Call my name!!_

The monster turned to run, but it was to late as the boy opened his mouth and his voice rang through the night.

"Tear through the darkness with your grace!! Scatter, Senbon Zakura!!!"

There was a sound like breaking glass, then everything was silent.

As quickly as it had appeared, the rain stopped; bathing the world in pale moonlight. The monster went completely still, all of it's senses straining to detect anything unusual. It twisted it's long neck around to get a better look at the boy. It's head tilted to the side in an almost comical puzzled gesture, as if it couldn't grasp what it was seeing. After a few moments a sickening grunting sound bellowed out of it's throat. The monster was laughing.

Because where the boy's blade had been moments before, there was now nothing. Only the hilt and guard remained. In fact, the boy wasn't even paying attention. His eyes were closed, as if he was praying. The beast snorted then slowly turned around, preparing to leap upon the boy and devour him.

But before the monster could advance even one more step forward, the boy's eyes flew open. And what the monster saw in those eyes was simple.

Reflected in that cold glare, was the beast's unavoidable and absolute death.

At the edge of it's vision, something in the air seemed to flicker, like a firefly in the night. As the monster watched, multiple flickering lights appeared in the air all around it, reflecting the moonlight.

They looked like petals.

One word fell from the boy's lips as the night was lit up by a thousand shards that lazily floated through the air and outshone the moon.

"Die."

The shards suddenly stopped there hazy movements, and converged onto the single target.

The monster of twisted fate knew no more as it's body crumbled to dust. But, before it died, some long-ago lost part of it's twisted mind cried out to it in the form of a simple memory. A memory of trees, and of the beautiful pink petals that fell from them. A young child, laughing and playing underneath the shade it offered. If it could have still done so, the monster would have cried from the sheer joy of the memory.

-

The woman with no face stirred, then sat up in a daze, her body soaked with rain. The sunlight hurt her eyes as she opened them to morning's first light. And that's when it hit her.

Something was wrong. She frantically turned, looking for the boy without a name. She nearly screamed at what she saw.

The boy without a name was lying in a pool of crimson. And standing next to him was...another him? In his hand was the hilt of a sword and he was dressed in long black robes.

The other him looked at the woman with no face, and she trembled at what she saw in his eyes. There was something else behind those eyes, something that frightened her terribly. His eyes had a vacant _off_ look to them, like he was distracted by something.

The woman tried to call his name, but he only looked at her with an oddly puzzled expression on his face. Like he was seeing her, but not really seeing her, as if he was in some kind of daze or trance. Slowly, the arm that held the hilt of the sword was raised.

On the edge of the woman's vision, something flickered.

She tried calling his name again, but he didn't seem to even notice. The look in his eyes downright terrified her now.

The boy smiled slightly, his eyes glazed over.

The hilt swung down, there was the rush of something that sounded like wind, but wasn't. A scream.

Then nothing as the darkness claimed him.

-

_**A/N: If you like what you read (or didn't like it) review it and tell me watcha think!**_

_**Click the button!! You know you wanna.**_


	3. Awake Again

**_A/N: Hello again! This is the next chapter in the story, so enjoy and don't forget to review!_**

**_Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Bleach._**

-

**Stage 3: Awake Again**

**-**

"_What do you think you're doing, bringing him here!"_

He was lost. Lost in a pit of darkness, full of memories and dreams. The two mixing and cascading until it was impossible to discern what was reality and what was nightmare. A place were he was left to stumble along, blindly searching his way through.

"_Well I couldn't just_ leave_ him there! He's only a kid for gods sake!"_

An impenetrable oblivion full of confusion. A world where fear and disorder take root and feed off the life of its victim, till it's awful flower blooms and rears it's distorted head up; soaking up the decrepit rays cast from the black sun of loneliness.

"_Is he gonna be alright?"_

A rustle of cloth. A twisted laugh that sounded more like a scream. The sound of a sword drawing blood from innocent flesh.

"_My god! What happened to him?!"_

Laughter. The scent of flowers. The rustle of leaves as the branches swayed.

"_I can't tell yet. He's in bad shape. His saketsu chain is barely holding together, and it's a wonder that his hakusui soul sleep has even made it this far. His spiritual pressure and vital signs are irregular. I don't know if I can save him."_

Laughter again. A boy in white darting behind walls of black splashed with red. A boy in black chasing after him, his hand slipping on the walls, coming back stained with a vibrant crimson.

"_We could take him to the Seireitei. I'm sure they would gladly accept one of there own kind rather than help those of us that are already sick or dying!_"

Hate. Anger, pain. The boy in white dancing to the lovely music as fingers of bone played across strings of flesh. The boy in black running after him, a confused, scared expression on his face.

"_How is he?"_

The boy in black yelling at the one in white to stop, to help him. The boy in white turning, a maniacal grin pulling his lips up to impossible heights on his completely white face. His pure white hair swaying in the breeze of another world as the red moon shines high in the sky.

"_Hush now, we'll see soon enough."_

"_Guess what?!?!" _the boy in white asks the scared boy in black as his pale face is lit up by the red moon. The boy in black falters, his eyes unsure. His fears resonating in the twisted world.

"_So what if he is one?! She's the same you know! As am I!"_

"_What?" _the boy in black asks tentatively.

"_That's not what I meant."_

"_You're dead!!!" _screams the boy in white, laughing in that inhuman voice full of glass shards of night. He keeps laughing, as if it was the funniest thing in the world. He laughs until tears of black blood stream down his snow-white face, staining it red. The moon turns black and the night is lit up with a deep red light that dulls the senses and pounds at your mind like a hammer.

"_Quick mama quick!! He's moving!"_

"_Hey, look what I can do!!" _the boy in white says with the same gleeful smile that plays across a predators face when it corners it's prey. His eyes are black pits, his pupils a sick gold. A sword, one with a lavender hilt and an infinitely sharp blade, materializes in his hand.

"_I...I think he's actually getting better..."_

"_This'll be fun!!!" _the boy in white screams. He laughs, lifting the sword to his face, then slowly rotates it, till the blade is pointing to the ground.

Then suddenly the boy in white isn't a boy anymore, but a man. A man with raven hair dressed in robes of black and white. A man with tubes of bone in his hair and a scarf woven from moonlight draped across his shoulders. A man with eyes as hard and cold as diamond.

The sword falls from the man's outstretched hand as he utters one word that echoes through the world of darkness.

"_Bankai."_

Then everything turns white.

-

The darkness that shrouds him in it's cold grasp finally parts. His eyes slowly open. All of his senses, though dulled, slowly return to him. For a second his mind overloads, and he drinks in the world around him with such fierce determination that his head spins from the onslaught of information.

Everything rushes back to him at once.

The bright and unmerciful sunlight that streams into the room, causing his eyes to water with pain as they creak open. Walls made of wood. The soft feeling of a bed, his head resting against pillows. The smell of sandalwood and incense, barely masking the underlying scent of dried blood. The rough feeling of bandages against his skin. The way his vision shifts between focused and blurry. The sharp, biting pain as he struggles to sit up.

And yet...

As vivid as the world is around him, he can't seem to recall a thing.

He sits up. His bandaged hand brushing up against his brow as his mind struggles to remember something, anything. But it's no use. It's as if his mind has become a darkly shining pool of oil, merely reflecting his own image when he gazes upon it's rippling surface. It refuses to give up the secrets it conceals, no matter how many times he plunges into it's murky depths. He clutches his head in his hands, trying to force himself to remember, but it's all blank. Nothing.

Nothing at all.

Everything he was, is gone.

-

Little seven year old Yuzuki was bored.

Daddy was helping the other daddies cut down trees for a new house, and mommy was down at the market buying more bandages and medicine. Even daddy's stinky friend Oozu (though he did sometimes bring her candy, much to the dismay of mommy and daddy, so she guessed he wasn't all that bad) hadn't stopped by today.

She was completely and utterly, bored. So bored that even laying on her back and staring at the ceiling was starting to become exhausting. She was rapidly approaching the dangerous level of boredom for someone her age.

Her bright sapphire eyes wandered to the hallway. Then, like a stealthy ninja, they slowly crept along wooden surface of the ceiling until they came to rest on the closed, rice paper door of a room.

And suddenly, the boredom disappeared.

Like a puppet on strings she abruptly stood up, her pink hair bouncing slightly as she skipped down the hall towards the door.

-

Suddenly, he hears what sounds like a stampede of wild bulls coming from outside the closed door of his room.

And... someone screaming?

The door slid open and he manages to catch a glimpse of what looks like a small child with bright pink hair, before something _very _solid decides that it wants to make friends with his face.

-

Little seven year old Yuzuki was in trouble.

Big trouble.

"I can't believe you did that!" said a woman with tanned skin and light red hair to match the bright pink of her daughters'. "And with the cooking pot of all things!"

"Now, now, honey." said a man dressed in a white gi and matching hakama. He ran his hands through his light brown hair with an exaggerated sigh. "I'm sure she was only playing." The man turned to Yuzuki with a calm smile on his face. "Isn't that right, dear?"

Yuzuki, who had been up until now standing with her hands behind her back and a guilty frown on her face, quit her fidgeting and stared at the floor. "Yes daddy."

The man smiled at his wife. "Now, wasn't that simple? All it'll take is a few extra bandages, nothing we can't fix up right?"

The woman with red hair merely sighed. "I'll go get the bandages and hot water. They need to be changed anyway."

"Okay dear, you do that." he flashed her one of his trademark grins. A molten glare that caused him to flinch as if struck was all he got in return. The man reached down and picked up his daughter, holding her close to him.

"I'm sorry daddy." Yuzuki said with a sniffle. She hated getting scolded.

"I know little one," he held her out so that he could make sure she was listening "but you can't go doing things like that. We're trying to save lives, not shorten them. Understood?"

Yuzuki nodded her head slowly, her expression one of dejection.

"Now, when he wakes up again, I expect you to apologize to him. Okay?"

Again her head nodded.

"Good girl." he looked around quickly, then said in a quit whisper said "though that was a very nice shot by the way. You're definitely your mother's little girl."

"I heard that!" came a yell from the kitchen.

"Ohh, you're in trouuubbbllleee!" said Yuzuki with a bright and teasing smile on her face.

"Hey, that's my line. Now go help your mom get everything ready." he said, setting her back down.

He watched her scurry off to the kitchen, then turned towards the rice-paper door where the boy was sleeping. His eyes were no longer soft, but hard and analytical.

There was a soft rasp as the door slid open, casting a warm yellow glow of light into the dark room.

Like he had done many times before, the man seated himself in the small chair by the boy's bed. As he looked at the boy he couldn't help but feel a sense of awe that he had even survived.

The boy had been lying face-down in the middle of one of Inuzuri's many dirt roads when he had found him. The boy had been dressed in a black gi and hakama, the traditional clothes of a shinigami. At his waist there was a sword, a zanpaku-to. One with a hilt and sheath of pale lavender.

He had been covered in blood from head to toe. Some of it dried, some of it still fresh enough to be bright red and wet. He had taken him for dead, until the boy had ever so slightly stirred.

When he had brought him back to the house he could only marvel at what he saw as they had removed his robes.

His pale white body had been covered in what had to have been thousands of lacerations, as if the boy had walked into a whirling storm of razor blades. He stunk of Hollow and death. They had done the best they had could for him, but in the end it had been left up to the boy's own will to live.

And to everyone's surprise, he had survived. Better yet, he seemed to be recovering at an amazing rate.

Injuries that would have taken months to heal normally, vanished from the boy's body in mere days.

_I've never heard of someone healing so fast without the assistance of the Fourth Squadron's best healers. _The man thought to himself as he gazed at the boy with hair as black as night. The boy stirred, a minute frown briefly flitting across his face before settling back into a calm expression.

_Just who is he?_

The boy offered no answer, but merely continued to drift within the world of the unconscious.

-

_**A/N: Whaddya think? A little short, I know, but I've been busy lately. This chapter is just a small filler, but the next one is gonna good! I have many..um...plans for Byakuya-sama... shifty eyes  
**_

_**Culture Shock: Through the story I'll be using some traditional Japanese language. So, after every chapter I'll leave an explanation of certain words for those of you that aren't too inclined to Nihongo (Japanese).**_

_** Gi: Traditional shirts that shinigami and the like wear**_

_**Hakama: The pants of the shinigami**_

_** These clothes aren't limited to just shinigami, many people wore them in the past. **_


End file.
